


Coming Home

by Sakrea



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, IDW Verse, Terrible angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:11:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakrea/pseuds/Sakrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's has been so long since one of his children had returned to him, and Sunstreaker had always been special.</p>
<p>Written for IDW verse following Sunstreaker's "death."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this ages ago, back when Sunstreaker "died" in the comics, and before it was revealed he wasn't actually dead. So this follows that he did actually die after his sacrifice.  
> This is also written with the assumption that the reader has read the "All Hail Megatron" comics and is familiar with the story line prior to that one.

Grief and regret touched his core, stirring in among more favorable emotions. A tendril reached out, touching the broken body, probing it with the utmost care.

He was almost ready. He felt the stirrings of recognition within the other's spark. There was acceptance, coupled with resistance. He still clung to the strings of life, bearing some hope to be rescued from his broken body.

The tendril of energy retreated, unseen back into the depths, waiting. He needed to be patient, he had to wait for complete acceptance or the return would fail.

Normally, he was so patient about this, willing to let a spark fade out if acceptance never came. This time, the idea of the life bearing current fading off was more than he could bear.

How long had it been since one of his children had returned? Millenia maybe. He'd lost count of the stellar cycles long ago, when his armor had been decimated and abandoned. He'd been deemed uninhabitable. Maybe he was at the time, but his repair systems were once more stretched out to the surface, curing his own ailment, bringing life bearing resources back to light.

All that time though, he'd been left alone. His children had left him, taking along with them their war. The sparks that normally resided with him had been brought to the surface, given a second chance at life just in case the others never returned. For the first time since the beginning of his existence, he'd been completely alone. His thoughts were his own, no quiet whispers of the young ones…

Although his children died in droves, none could return to him for the promised chance at another life. They were too far out of his reach for him to retrieve the dying sparks before they vanished forever.

For the first time since his abandonment, one of his children could return to him. He felt it a blessing, yet he also grieved for the spark. How could he not? After all, this one was special.

A time before the war raged across his surface, this one had been summoned forth. He'd needed a new spark to send to life and this one had been formed near the inside of his own core. Yet, only moments before he sent it to be with the rest of its kind, the small azure spark had crackled with an extra energy before it split in two. Yet, the other spark created had been so much tinier, so very delicate he'd hesitated to send it up with its twin. Still, it seemed a miracle to him as this extra spark had not been his intention. Whispering words of strength and beauty to it, he'd reluctantly let it slip up to the surface.

For those peaceful vorns before the war, he'd watched the twins grow with pride, especially keeping an optic on the small spark. Then the war erupted and both were evacuated from him. He'd eagerly tracked his sparkling to the upper atmosphere before his tendrils could reach no farther. And he grieved.

He touched a tendril to the broken body once more, sensing only echoes of the corruption the small spark had undergone away from him. He felt betrayal, regret, pain, and a lingering cloud of anger.

The small spark was not ready yet, still resisting the call to come home. He pressed more firmly now, this time stroking the tendril over his spark. There was a stirring, a last venting of atmosphere, and the small spark opened himself up to the tendril.

In life, his name had been Sunstreaker, and his twin, Sideswipe. He'd been proud, beautiful, talented, and strong. While he often hid his emotions behind a mask of anger, his spark was in the right place. For all of this, Primus felt his own spark swell in pride.

Yet… There was something else. A corruption, a dark spot, huddled within the inner confines of the small spark. He reached for it, yet Sunstreaker shied away. He soothed him, whispering soft promises, urging him to reveal it to him so that it could be inspect the damaged area.

It was a time before the spark reluctantly opened once more for him, granting him access to its depths. He touched the corrupted spot, immersing himself in its origins.

He felt a flare of anger that he could not remember having felt before. His creation, his small spark had been experimented with, toyed with, and tortured. It was a corruption of the mind caused by those organic horrors. It was an experience that Sunstreaker had not been able to move past. It haunted him, as did his later actions.

The betrayal he'd brought on his friends swirled violently within the confines of the corrupted area. He'd not meant to cause them the pain he had and he grieved for it. He felt the death he had brought upon himself was what he deserved, yet part of him reached out, hoping for forgiveness he could never bring himself to ask for as he dared hope to be given another chance.

He soothed the grieving spark, whispering promises of the future to him. He would get that second chance when the time came, he would make sure of that. He could maybe even bring him back to his friends, but he must wait. The time was not right yet…

The body fell slack, optics finally fading into black as the last of his systems shut down. As of now, it was nothing more than a useless shell, but without it, the small spark began to falter and die.

Then, in those last moments, the small spark accepted him. The tendril closed around his spark, drawing it back within him, down to his depths. There, he would watch over it, nurse it back to purity. He would watch over it once more.

" _It is time to come home, my small spark…"_


End file.
